A Simple Man
by InoFan
Summary: ShikaIno. Possibly ShikaTema. Shikamaru is a simple man. At least he thinks so. He wishes everyone else thought the same. Why is it that the people closest to you don't seem to really understand you at all?


**Disclaimer: Not mine, Kishimoto's. **

_Note: This takes place three years after Asuma's death, stopping at that point in the manga. So anything that happens past there is irrelevant for this fic._

I have no idea where this is going; I wrote it at work to keep myself awake. Of course my imagination couldn't let me work on the next chapter of Fear the Fall instead...

It was, to Nara Shikamaru's way of thinking, a waste of time to argue with any female. He'd sooner shovel poop on his the family deer farm for hours or go on a lengthy mission with Naruto and Kiba arguing the entire time. The primary women in his life (his mother and Ino) were just that troublesome. And whether he was actually going to listen to what they said or not, it was better to nod and disagree internally.

So it was with much trepidation that his feet were taking him toward the Yamanaka flower shop. Ino had told her mother who had told his mother who told him that his former teammate wanted to talk to him. With Ino, 'talk' was a relative term. Though he couldn't remember having pissed her off recently, it wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish.

Traveling as slow as was permissible, he looked upward briefly and felt a pang. For every minute he was tardy, Ino was likely tallying his every sin. But it was a perfect cloud watching day. They were interspersed with a lazy blue that reminded him of many a summer day spent doing just such --watching sprawling white cotton candy fluffs that occasionally morphed into amusing shapes. Their pace was unhurried, a worthy match for his mood; sluggish and unambitious. Annoyance nagged at him for the loss.

The flower shop loomed suddenly, no larger than it'd been the day before, but seeming impossibly intimidating. It was without a doubt Ino's domain; everything feminine and complicated. Flowers, like the moods of a woman, represented a dozen different things. Whatever emotion a person was intending to convey could be done with a carefully selected arrangement. Or ruined, as the case could be when it came to him. Why the hell did men buy flowers for women anyway? Females were the ones that knew what they meant, were the ones interested in knowing.

Filling his cheeks with air and releasing it, he reluctantly pulled a hand from his pocket and pushed in, wincing at the jingle of the bells. If she hadn't know he was here, she would now.

Eyes lazily scanning the room, he came upon rows of different shaped vases, balloons, ribbons and whatever else it was a person needed to make arrangements. The scents of the flowers mingled, assaulting his sinuses, and found it on par with a perfume shop. Enough so, that his shoulders shook with an answering sneeze blending into a scowl.

Ino was at the counter arranging flowers in a vase. Like him, she helped her parents when not on missions. He supposed of the two of them she had the better deal. Smelling flowers all day instead of deer pellets likely had it's advantages. Though his sinuses were blissfully free from attack.

"Shikamaru! You're so slow."

He sighed. He couldn't help it. "I'm here aren't I?"

"Under protest, I'm sure."

The look she leveled at him spoke of the thoughts no doubt swirling in her unfortunately active mind. Displeasure was written in the flat line of her mouth, the sharp stab of her eyes, and the slightly tilt of her chin.

As if the act would make him disappear, he slouched and muttered, "What does it matter whether I wanted to or not? I came."

She waved the question away with the scissors in her hand. Shikamaru was grateful she was using them on the flowers and not him. And that she hadn't picked up on Tenten's propensity for projectiles.

"Anyway, do you have a date for the festival?" Just like that, out of no where, she figuratively knocked him on his ass. He hated how women changed the subject as often as they did clothes.

The festival? While remaining outwardly blank, he tried to recall what she was talking about.

"Don't tell me you forgot!"

He shouldn't have wasted the brain power.

"Okay, I won't tell you."

"Smart ass. The Festival of Fireflies!" She continued trimming her flowers, hands moving with a speed and skill that bordered on vicious. He felt sorry for the flowers.

Dropping the flowers into a vase, her face momentarily softened as she surveyed her work. It never stopped amazing him that Ino could go through a range of emotions in a matter of seconds.

"Come up to the counter. I don't want to have to shout at you across the shop."

He wished she'd show him the same courtesy she did her damned roses once in a while.

"Shikamaru?"

Spurned into motion by her tone, he jerked forward. She was focused on something at the front counter, but he didn't doubt for a moment that she knew his every move.

Ino was like a whirlwind. It was better to go with the flow than to struggle against it and lose yourself in the backlash.

"Your parents missed you at the last family dinner." At least once a month their families got together with Chouji's for a dinner.

"I was on a mission." And would rather not think on it.

Brilliant blue eyes were on his face again, assessing. Why did it feel like she knew what he was thinking? Why did it always? She was constantly telling him he was hard to understand and then in the same breath that he was far too simple. He supposed to her that made sense.

Shikamaru didn't think he was complicated. His wants were simple. They always had been. It was everyone else that wanted him to be more.

"I heard it didn't go well," she said, her demeanor casual as she looked down at he ribbons she was cutting. He noticed she was more careful with those than the flowers. She could be a little too fierce when it came to live things.

His hands flexed and unflexed in his pocket for a moment as the mission replayed in his head in rapid sequence.

It had started out well enough. A simple retrieve and return. How could they have known that what the Hokage sought was important to the Sound? Or had Tsunade known and neglected to mention it? While it seemed unlikely, Shikamaru knew her to be about the most devious female he'd ever met. She had her reasons for doing things and didn't always feel it necessary to share.

Shrugging, not wanting to recall it anymore vividly than he already had, not wanting to retrace the same path he had for days that lead only to guilt and inadequacy, he said, "Yeah. The others are still in the hospital recovering."

"Well Sakura is taking care of them, so I'm sure they'll be fine." Her movements were brisk as she moved from behind the counter.

He could recall only one time when she'd openly consoled him. That had been the death of Asuma. They'd all felt that loss keenly. Even now, three years later, his stomach still tightened at the memory.

"She's a good med-nin," he agreed.

"Of course she is," Ino said, her tone indicating there was never any doubt.

She fell silent for a moment, her attention on what her hands were doing. The repetitive movements were oddly soothing. They pulled his mind away from the mission, from Asuma.

Of anyone, Ino belonged here. She was as about as feminine as a woman could get. Her hair and make-up were always carefully done, and she'd grown from the awkward child she'd been. The delicate features of her face settled into near perfect symmetry and she had the curves she'd always complained she lacked (though not-so-secretly voicing she at least had more than Sakura).

But there was nothing weak about her physical shape. It was obvious she didn't neglect her training, whatever image she wanted to portray. She wasn't a kunoichi for show, as she was fond of telling him in varying decibels. It made her proud to carry on the Yamanaka name, the same as it did him the Nara, even if this wouldn't have been his choice without prodding from family (mostly his mother).

Most days, he would've been happy running the deer farm and leaving the missions to other nin -- that was, if the Hokage would let him.

"I'm sure you did all you could, Shikamaru. Even if you're lazy most of the time." The amusement lurking in her eyes irritated him. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You know it's true."

So what if he was lazy? What was wrong with being lazy? It took a whole lot less effort to be lazy than ambitious. He'd rather leave that to Naruto. His friend had enough ambition for the whole village.

Flipping her ponytail over her shoulder, Ino continued, "Anyway, I think you'd better stay away from the hospital for a while. Sakura says you're there so often she's going to throw you out the next time she sees you. Literally," she added, her grin more of a sneer.

Lips turning down at the corners, he felt his face heat up and dropped his chin to study his feet so she wouldn't see. Couldn't women for once _not_ gossip?

The two shinobi on his team had been his responsibility. One was fairly new, the other more seasoned. He'd escaped with only deep bruises easily healed by Sakura's capable hands. They had broken bones, a ruptured spleen, and bruised kidneys between them as well as cuts and bruises of their own. So what if he felt like checking up on them frequently. Wasn't that what anyone would do?

Just as quickly as she'd been amused did her words become serious. "Don't feel guilty. I know you are. You aren't 100 percent responsible for every mission you go on. You can't possibly be. It's stupid to think you can plan for every single step, to manage other people -- they have their own thoughts and agendas too, Shikamaru."

The comment only further embarrassed him where he knew she'd meant it as reassurance. It was easy to say it, but another to practice it. As team leader, how could he not consider himself to be the one carrying the brunt of it?

"Come here a minute, will you? I need you to hold this."

Hoping most of the flush had faded, he took the bundle of flowers she indicated to and held them up. They were mostly roses mixed with greenery and baby's breath. The smell was pleasant, even up against Ino's perfume -- a vanilla scent that actually seemed to compliment it. Funny, he'd taken her for something more exotic than vanilla.

Her hair brushed him as she worked, tickling his face. Eying it, he blew at it, though it was too heavy to move far.

Ino moved away from him so quickly, her face almost panicked, as she stopped her actions so abruptly he almost let the flowers go.

"What are you doing?"

"Holding the flowers like you asked." What was with her?

"No." Impatience evident, she continued, "I was talking about you blowing air in my face."

"Your hair was in _my_ face." And admitting it was a bit lowering, as it indicated the short few inches of height that separated them.

"Well..." she seemed for a loss at words, and a sudden pink dusted her cheeks.

Raising his eyebrows, impatience filtering through him now, he tried to figure out what her problem was. Tired of holding the flowers in mid-air, he shifted, lowering his arms as his hip bumped hers. She jumped away again, as if he'd slapped her instead and busied her hands rearranging some cards on the table next to the vase.

"Uh... Ino? I don't want to hold these things all day."

Just as quickly as she'd fled, she turned back and tore the flowers from his hands. "Give them here then! Geez, you act like I told you to arrange them yourself or something."

Uncertain what he'd done to earn her ire this time, he jammed his hands back into his pockets and sighed. Being with Ino was like being on a winding road -- you never knew when the curves would come up.

"Don't just stand there. Take this to the cooler." She shoved it into his chest with a little more gusto than was necessary.

Reacting on reflex, he caught it before it fell, as she turned away to do what, he didn't know. Muttering to himself over her odd behavior, he trudged to the cooler and stuck it in.

"Put it by the other roses!"

What did she have, eyes in the back of her head?

Sighing again, he pulled it back out and put it in the only available slot next to its own kind. What the hell did it matter anyway? They were all flowers.

"Ino, did you call me here for something specific or just to help you do your job?"

"Well you don't have to sound that way!"

Back within her line of sight, he spread his arms out. "What way? I was just asking a question."

Her chin went up. "In case you've forgotten, I asked if you had a date to the festival."

He hadn't. He'd hoped she had.

Shikamaru let his expression slide from his face until he felt like following it to floor and disappearing.

"No."

She jabbed a finger at him. "Hah! Admit it. You forgot."

At this point, he figured it was better to give her what she wanted instead of prolonging the inevitable victory. "Yeah. So what? I wasn't going to go anyway."

Ino inclined her head, hands going to her hips. "What about that girl? You know, the blonde airhead with too big of-"

"Ino," he interrupted, "You know her name. What'd she ever do to you anyway? She was nice." Dumb, but nice. Which was more than he could say for a certain _other_ blonde.

"Nothing," she answered after too long a pause in which a dozen emotions crossed her face and were discarded. She'd always been expressive. Too expressive.

While he couldn't read her mind, he knew her. She was backed into a corner. Ino in a corner was like Lee drunk: either get the hell out of the way or be trampled.

It could go one of three ways. She would change the subject, all the while working her way back around to the conversation. Charge, in which case he was in for a verbal onslaught of his character flaws. Or admit she was wrong.

The last was highly doubtful.

Crossing his arms, he waited, wondering if he should be ready in case she launched a pyshical attack. Though those were much more rare since she'd badgered him to train with her until he'd finally given in. But he'd been irked enough by then to beat her soundly and she hadn't spoken to him for three days after.

It'd been a blessing of sorts until she started relaying messages through Chouji while he was standing on the otherside of the Akimichi neutral zone.

What the hell was taking her so long?

"Ino?"

"I just don't like her, that's all."

Ino logic. Who was he to argue?

"We're not dating anyway. It didn't work out."

She folded her arms, mimicing him. The sharp edge to her smile had him bracing himself warily.

"I told you. She was too dumb for you."

Even if it was true... "We just didn't..." He scrambled to find a suitable explaination that wouldn't butcher the poor girl.

"'Work out'," she recited, smugness imprinted in the slender line of her neck as she did her best to put her nose in the air.

He sighed, releasing the breath slowly until his entire body felt drained of air.

"Oh don't sigh at me, Shikamaru. You know she was dumb. What could you, a genuis, possibly have in common with her?"

He shifted, rolling his shoulders as his hand went to rub at the back of his neck out of reflex. "Don't call me that."

"Why not? It's true."

"Other people-" he tried in a bored, patient tone.

"Aren't as smart as you." She stuck her tongue out at him. Strangely, the childish move didn't have him rolling his eyes as it usually did.

Staring at her, eyebrows drawing in furiously, he tried to reason through why that silly action made him feel like someone had drawn a cold finger up his spine and rearranged his insides.

"What? Why are you staring at me like that?" She hugged one arm to her chest as if needing to protect herself.

He shook his head, breaking the contact by looking away. "Nothing."

"Sometimes you can be so... so..."

"Troublesome?" He supplied, offering her a full, rare grin.

Arms dropping to hang uselessly at her sides, her mouth fell open, but mercifully othing came out for once.

Ino? Speechless? This was a moment to be savored. Because whether he verbally bested her or not, she always had a comeback.

Without warning, she spun away, latched onto the nearest object, and hurled blindly. It was again, innate reflex, that got him out of the way in time. It hit the door and littered his back with dirt and broken pottery. A faint sting at his neck had him reaching back and coming up with lightly bloodied fingers.

Her eyes were abnormally large in her face, the blue of them making her seem pale except for two pinpoints of color high in her cheeks. Her breathing was rapid, drawing his attention to her chest as it rose and fell.

Pulling his attention back to her face, fighting a guiltly flush, he rubbed his fingers together. The drying blood was sticky and he felt an uncharacteristic surge of anger.

"What the hell was that about? Why can't you just say you're pissed at me like every other normal person?"

More to the point, why was she so damn mad? He'd only smiled at her. Had she thought he was mocking her?

As if struggling through a dream, she brough ther hand to her mouth and blinked several times.

"Shikamaru, I..."

Not trusting himself, he turned his back on her, bending to began systematically picking up the broken shards. Why he didn't just walk out, he wasn't sure -- except, maybe, for once h wanted to know why she was angry enough to throw valuable merchandise.

He felt, rather than heard her move. She dropped to her knees next to him, face hidden by her long, thick hair. She was going to cut her knees. If he hadn't been so unsure of his footing still, he might've said as much.

"Here, let me do it. I'm the one who..."

There eyes met as her hand latched onto a piece and his hand closed over hers. She visibly swallowed and he remained a second longer than was probably necessary. Something was different. If he was as much of a genuis as everyone said, he'd leave it alone.

"Ino-"

The shard fell to the floor and she pulled her hand out from under his. Turning way, she reached for the flowers, effectively closing him out. Whatever had been happening was no longer, and he was going to leave it alone.

Sighing, she turned the bent and twisted stems in her hands, briefly fingering the petals. He left her to the flowers and went in search of a broom. It was probably just as well he put some distance between them. The atmosphere had been off since he stepped into the shop and he'd be damned if he thought about it right now.

When he returned, she was dropping the last of the pottery into the trash can. Wordlessly, she took the broom from him and began sweeping. As he watched her, he tried to squash the rising worry over her subdued behavior. Ino was anything but quiet. If he had to liken her to anything it'd be a Magpie with the energy of a Hummingbird and the aggression of an Orange Weaver.

She talked too much, never slowed down, and was deadly when threatened.

He should do what he always did, ignore it. But apparently he wasn't playing it safe today, because the words left his mouth almost of their own accord. "Ino, what the hell is up with you today?"

Although, in retrospect, he could've phrased it better. 


End file.
